


boys of summer

by scatteringmyashes



Series: feels like summer [5]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Percy Jackson Fusion, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Meet the Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23041966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scatteringmyashes/pseuds/scatteringmyashes
Summary: Dimitri is the son of Zeus, king of the gods. It makes him important, a big fish in Camp Half-Blood. Demeter doesn't care.Or: Dimitri meets the mother of his boyfriend. It goes about as well as one could expect.****Chapter Two: It’s Sylvain’s turn to meet Felix’s godly parent.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: feels like summer [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646359
Comments: 28
Kudos: 137





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that chapter one is Dimidue and chapter two is Sylvix! I'll be uploading chapter two later today.
> 
> Let me know what you think! 
> 
> Enjoy~

It was a well known secret that Dimitri and Dedue were dating. They didn't really mean to act like it was a secret, but no one had ever just come out and asked them and they weren't quite as public about it as some of the other couples at camp. It wasn't that Dimitri was ashamed or anything — honestly he sometimes wanted to shout his love for Dedue from the rooftop of his cabin — but rather neither wanted to delve into the godly drama that came from a child of Zeus dating anyone. 

Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades were the Big Three — the most powerful and influential of the gods. That meant that their children were also the most powerful and influential of the demigods. Poseidon didn't have any claimed kids, Hades's only kid was rarely at camp, and so that left Dimitri and Edelgard as the two big fish in Camp Half-Blood. 

It was nice, sometimes, being respected. Other times… 

Well, sometimes Dimitri just wanted to be a normal guy who could go to high school and worry about things like math homework and prom. 

He sighed as he looked up at the sky. It was a bright, beautiful day on Long Island. There was a magical boundary around Camp Half-Blood that meant that there could never be bad weather, but today it wasn't needed. Some campers were riding pegasi, a few others raced in canoes on the lake, and Dimitri could just make out wave after wave of arrows flying from Apollo's kids down at the range. 

Dimitri kept heading towards the boundary between camp and the real world. He had a bit of free time in his schedule and he didn't really fancy Felix thrashing him in the training arena or getting out-raced on the climbing wall by some of the satyrs. Besides, summer session had been in swing for a week already and he hadn’t done this tradition yet. 

Camp Half-Blood lay in a valley on Long Island, hidden from mortal eyes and impossible for mortals or monsters to enter — except for one very lost pizza delivery man, _thanks_ Claude. It wasn't always like that, though. In fact, it had only been the last few years where that was possible. 

The reason for Camp Half-Blood's protective magic was the same reason Dimitri had a tradition every year at the start of summer session. 

Dimitri crested the top of the hill, a strong breeze blowing past him. He could see the camp buildings in the distance. Everyone was no more than little dots walking around. 

It was quiet. 

He took his messenger bag off his shoulder, setting it down at his feet. An old, gnarled tree cast a shadow over his face. He looked at it sadly. It was a bit creepy, to be honest. There were no leaves, the bark was tinged red like someone had splashed blood over it, and it exuded an aura that made Dimitri want to punch something. 

More than anything, though, it made him sad. 

Dimitri took a small canteen out of his bag. He poured the contents — ambrosia, drink of the gods — at the roots of the tree. 

"Hey," he said. "Sorry it took me so long." Dimitri didn't know if it was a trick of the light, but he thought that the tree stood a bit taller and actually leaned towards him. He didn't feel threatened, but he could feel a presence watching him. 

What were the chances that it was Glenn's spirit, summoned by Dimitri's offering? Dimitri was no son of Hades — just about the opposite — but perhaps… Well, stranger things had happened. 

"Your brother won Capture the Flag again," Dimitri said. He sat down on the grass, head tilted to look at the tree. “You always said that he was the second best swordmaster in the world. Is he the best yet?” 

There was no reply. There never was. Dimitri didn’t know what he expected. It had been four years. What was the point in waiting any more for a sign that he didn’t think existed? 

He sighed. He felt a dangerous combination of anger and sorrow deep in his chest. Being by the tree always did that to him. There was very little that Ares got his hands on that wasn’t a little bit violent. At least he had the sense to turn Glenn into a tree and not, say, a sword or something. 

“I wish I knew what I was doing,” Dimitri said. “It’s been four years. I’ve been out of camp once. Am I really just supposed to spend my whole life here, waiting for something to change? You said that camp was perfect, a safe haven for people like us, but I… I would give anything to leave.” He laughed. That would take a quest and no one was going to give him a quest. Not without a very good reason.

The only way he would see old age was if he stayed at camp forever, first as a camper and then as a real counselor. The idea wasn't all that appealing. 

“Is this what the son of Zeus does in his free time?” A woman asked.

Dimitri jumped to his feet. He spun around, startled to see a woman with long hair and dark skin looking at him with a flat expression. She had on a green sundress and simple sandals, looking a bit like a tourist who was seen walking around the beach or in the botanical gardens. He tried going through his mental list of goddesses, but no one was sticking out to him. Besides, he hadn’t offended anyone in a year — surely there wasn’t anything wrong with talking to a tree?

Still, regardless of his godly parentage he knew he should tread lightly. Just because Zeus would be mad if he was blasted into a million pieces didn’t mean that another god wouldn’t do it anyway.

“Hello, ma’am.” Dimitri gave her a half-bow. “How may I assist you?” 

As she stared at him, he had the unsettling sensation that he was being sized-up, but not for a fight. More like, how would he look in someone’s living room as a statue. 

“I have watched you for some time, son of Zeus. Recently, your actions have prompted me to act.”

Now Dimitri was _really_ confused. What had he done recently besides help win Capture the Flag? Was she mad at him for paying one of the Hermes kids to sneak him some gardening gloves for Dedue the other day? There just weren’t a lot of ways to get surprise gifts for people without bribing the Hermes cabin — those kids could get anything that wasn’t nailed down. 

“You still do not know who I am?” The goddess sighed. “Perhaps this will enlighten you.” She started to glow and Dimitri almost looked away — if someone saw the true form of a god, they would be blasted into atoms no matter who their parents were — but rather than kill him, the goddess just changed clothes. 

Her dress was pure white, a traditional Greek chiton, and her curls were pulled up by a band of gold around her forehead. She had a red poppy in her hair and in her arms was a bundle of wheat. There was only one goddess who was associated with grains. 

Dimitri gupled. 

“Lady Demeter,” he said, bowing a little deeper this time. He could feel her eyes bore holes in him. 

“Hmph. So skinny. You need to eat more grains. Till some fields. Demigods used to be so much… more.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” It was a bad idea to ever disagree with a goddess, but it was an even worse idea when you were dating her son. 

Demeter gestured with her hand. A chair appeared and she sat in it. Dimitri remained standing. 

“I have one question for you.” Her eyes were gold, but Dimitri could see Dedue’s vibrancy and calm spirit in her. It wasn’t like Demeter wasn’t still very threatening, but she didn't exude violence or danger. She just had a confidence that couldn’t be shaken. Dimitri liked that about Dedue. The jury was still out with Demeter. “What are your intentions with my son?” 

It was the question Dimitri expected, but he still found himself uncertain. Was this a shovel talk? Dimitri supposed that would be the best description of it, but despite everything he half expected Demeter to conjure a shovel, hand it to him, and tell him to start digging. Fields weren’t going to prepare themselves. 

“I love him,” Dimitri said.

“Yes.” 

“I want to take care of him.”

It was apparently the wrong thing to say, because Demeter narrowed her eyes. The grass around her started to turn yellow. Dimitri wondered what Zeus would turn him into, if he was about to die. Maybe a pine tree or a bit of steel wool. 

“He can take care of himself. He is an independent young man.” Demeter beamed. “I am very proud of him. He never skimps on his cereal.” 

Dimitri decided not to ask about the cereal thing. 

“I know he can, but he — he helps me, so I want to help him.” It sounded so… so meaningless when he said it aloud. 

“Why you, though? It could be anyone. You could ask anyone to take care of him,” Demeter pushed. 

“Because I can — because I owe him.” Dimitri ran a hand through his hair. It was oily. If he had to meet Dedue’s mother, he would have preferred it be after he showered and maybe had the Aphrodite kids give him a makeover like they had been threatening for the last three years. “I know that I may not have proven myself yet, Lady Demeter, but I can. I know that I can protect him if anything happened.” 

“You seem very convinced that something will happen,” Demeter questioned, raising an eyebrow. Dimitri didn’t reply. He could feel Glenn’s tree loom over him. “Hm.” Demeter crossed her arms. The wheat stalks shivered in the wind. “The children of my brothers never have a happy ending. You’re cursed. Too strong to live, too powerful to die. Why should I allow you to drag my son down with you?” 

“I would never let anything happen to Dedue,” Dimitri swore. “I’d die before I let anything happen.”

Demeter’s gaze reminded Dimitri that some people associated the goddess of the harvest with the cycle of life and death. He shivered and resisted the urge to look up at the sky. Zeus was not getting him out of this. 

“Heroes always think that promising to die for someone is the ultimate sacrifice.” Demeter snorted. “I don’t think that you’re good enough for my son.”

Dimitri could scream. Of _course_ he wasn’t good enough for Dedue. That was never the question. It was never even a doubt. Dedue deserved the world. He deserved a god, someone _better_ than a god. Not Dimitri. Never someone like Dimitri. 

Demeter didn’t notice his internal monologuing. 

“I’m not like some of my siblings. I won’t force you two apart. I won’t even threaten you. I don’t need to do something so basic.” She stood. She was barely feet tall, but she loomed over him like only a god could. Dimitri swallowed. “Dedue is my eldest. He is the prize of the crop. He should have a peaceful life. Get a farm somewhere, grow flowers, raise chickens. I know that you agree.”

“Yes,” Dimitri said, because how could he not? 

“But with you…” A cloud actually passed over the two of them, a freak of nature on an otherwise perfect day. “I cannot see the future, but I know that he does not get that with you.” 

There wasn’t much more depressing things than having a goddess say _Hey you probably are gonna be miserable in the future and, if you keep dating my son, so will he!_ Dimitri clenched his hands into fists. 

“You don’t know that,” he said, feeling like a petulant brat. Demeter looked at him like he was. 

“Nor do you.” Demeter sighed as thunder rumbled in the distance. Thunder, on a clear day. “That would be your father. He allows my visit as a courtesy. No more, no less.”

“Will he—”

“Visit my son? I doubt it. My Dedue would never harm anyone he loves.” Demeter sounded so confident that the grass around her perked back up. A flower actually bloomed on Glenn’s tree. Dimitri hadn’t even seen buds. Demeter saw him looking and sighed. “You are surrounded by people who would give their lives for you. Try not to let them.” 

“I would never let anyone die for me,” Dimitri argued. The look on Demeter’s face was indecipherable.

“Heroes never get to be happy.” Demeter sighed. “Tell Dedue that he should eat more cereal.”

Before Dimitri could respond, a brisk breeze churned up. He squeezed his eyes shut, felt a violent heat burn against his face, and then it was gone. Demeter was gone. She took her chair with her. The wheat was still there. He tried not to overthink it as he took the bundle in his hands.

He looked up at the sky. 

“I’m going to be the first,” he said. “I’m going to be the first and Dedue is going to be why.” 

Thunder rolled across the sky. Dimitri found it comforting. It didn’t start to rain, but clouds gathered as he headed back to camp. Glenn’s tree stood at the top of half-blood hill, a silent warden against monsters. The single flower remained bright and vibrant against the worn bark. 

#

He found Dedue talking with Ashe on the path between the cabins and the rest of camp. Ashe saw him first and waved.

“Hi!” He said. “Dedue, there he is.”

Dedue turned. He had a look on his face that was difficult to read — Dimitri found himself thinking of Demeter again. The thought was unpleasant and he did his best to banish it. 

“You were looking for me?” Dimitri asked. 

“The thunder…” Dedue paused. Dimitri nodded in understanding. The two looked into each other’s eyes, the silent question answered with as reassuring a smile as Dimitri could manage. 

Ashe said something about finding one of his siblings and scampered off. Dimitri was too distracted to tell him goodbye — he could apologize later. Dedue cleared his throat.

“You were… Farming?” He asked, glancing at the wheat.

“Oh!” Dimitri coughed. “I, well, was speaking with your mother.” 

Dedue couldn’t really pale, but he did blanche. He reached out to touch the wheat but hesitated. Dimitri had no qualms about holding it out. He couldn’t delude himself into thinking that it was for him. Demeter had made her feelings very clear. 

“Did she say anything?” Dedue asked. “About me or my siblings.”

“She said you should eat more cereal.” Dimitri felt stupid just saying it. Dedue gave him a funny expression, clearly sensing that there was more to it than that, but he didn’t push. “Um, do you have activities scheduled right now?” 

“I should be helping my siblings with the strawberry fields,” Dedue confessed. 

“I won’t keep you, then.” 

Neither of them moved. 

“Do you want to talk about something?” Dedue asked. 

_Yes._

“No, I’m fine.” Dimitri smiled. He hoped it was enough to convince Dedue that this wasn’t worth pursuing. “Just a bit shaken, I guess. It’s always odd talking to gods.”

Most people didn’t speak to the gods ever, even their own parents. Dimitri got to be special. When your dad was Zeus, everyone wanted to talk to you. 

“I suppose.” Dedue looked around. When it seemed the coast was clear, he pulled Dimitri into a hug and kissed the top of his head. “Whatever my mother may have said, please try not to dwell on it? I know that’s difficult…”

“I never dwell,” Dimitri joked. It was a joke because his entire life could be summed up as one long dwelling session. “I will do my best. I’ve been feeling better this summer. Maybe it’s something in the food.”

The food hadn’t changed at Camp Half-Blood since before Dimitri had arrived. There was no reason it would have changed now. Dedue did not mention this. 

“I should take these back to my cabin. A gift from mother should be cherished.” Dedue looked at Dimitri. “Would you happen to be on your way back to the cabins?” 

The implications dripped off of Dedue’s words. Dimitri probably adopted the color of a lobster — he didn’t know because he buried his head in Dedue’s chest. Dedue wasn’t binding but he didn’t seem uncomfortable so Dimitri wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it. There was just something nice about being held in Dedue’s arms, surrounded by the smell of dirt and ripe fruit. Dimitri knew that he was followed by storm clouds and ozone. He wished that he could be as light and hopeful as Dedue. 

“I will walk back with you,” Dimitri tried to say, but his words were muffled so what Dedue probably heard was _Arm malt barth mist mew._

Still, he didn’t need words when Dedue laced their fingers together and then led them down the path to the Demeter cabin. Dimitri didn’t need to speak when Dedue opened the door and waited for Dimitri to enter before following him. Dimitri didn’t need words when Dedue kissed him in the middle of the cabin, something that felt vaguely sacrilegious and disrespectful but also so nice and safe and good that Dimitri couldn’t stop.

Dimitri didn’t need to say that he loved Dedue. He did anyways. 

“I love you too,” Dedue replied. He kissed Dimitri again. Dimitri knew, in his heart, that it would take more than a god to scare him off from feeling this love.

For Dedue, Dimitri would defy fate.


	2. Chapter 2

Sylvain would be absolutely murdered in the most public and violent way possible if he dared say it, but Felix was actually rather affectionate in private. They had only been a thing for a few days now, but Sylvain had never felt so comfortable with someone else. They sat underneath trees, sparred a bit together, and shared knowing looks during dinner. Felix leaned against Sylvain at campfires, glaring whenever their siblings so much as glanced in their direction. 

The other members of Cabin Five and Ten were both acting like all other entertainment had shriveled up and now the only joy in their lives came from watching Felix and Sylvain sit at the docks and dangle their feet in the lake. It was infuriating, but Sylvain had expected it. He had led several observation missions when his other siblings had started to date — it was an Aphrodite thing. Felix, on the other hand, did not seem to be coping as well.

"Come back here so I can stab you!" Felix shouted at one of his brother's at one point, getting up and shaking his fist as if he could summon the aforementioned sword with sheer will power. 

Sylvain laughed and dragged him back down, wrapping his arms around Felix's torso. 

"Don't worry about him," he said, as if he hadn't threatened to ruin one of his sister's makeup the other night. "Tell me more about the time you fought the Minotaur." 

The only thing Felix liked as much as fighting was talking about fights, especially ones where he got to brag about how good he was. It didn't matter that Sylvain had been told the story before — it wasn't about listening. He was enthralled with Felix's expression, the gleam in his eyes, the way that he gestured so wildly that he almost hit Sylvain in the face at one point. 

"Sorry," Felix said, before continuing his story. 

They sat at the docks until the Apollo kids came over and Ignatz, with an apologetic look, kicked them out. 

"Aren't your cabins, um, doing other activities?" Ignatz asked. 

"Yeah, and I felt like not doing them. You have a problem with that?" Felix replied as he stood up. Ignatz paled a few shades. Sylvain laughed, slinging an arm over Felix's shoulders.

"Come on, Fe, let's go make sure our siblings aren't burning the Big House down." Sylvain guided Felix away from murdering Ignatz and towards the main portion of camp. 

It wasn't difficult to find the other members of the Aphrodite cabin. Sylvain's siblings were all gathered at the dining pavilion, some doing their nails and others touching up their eyeliner and all of them gossiping. Eight pairs of eyes turned to look as Sylvain and Felix entered. 

Felix pulled away from Sylvain, who tried to tell himself that it didn't matter. 

"I'll see you later," Felix muttered. Their fingers were the last point of contact, Felix's sword-calloused skin rough against Sylvain's own. "I think my cabin's supposed to be climbing the rock wall." 

Sylvain's siblings giggled as Felix stalked off. Sylvain was certain that his face matched his hair. 

"What were you two doing?" His sister asked. 

"Absolutely nothing," Sylvain told her. "Now, come over here. Your eyeliner is crooked." 

He spent the rest of the afternoon fixing up makeup and casually avoiding answering any questions about his relationship with Felix. The only thing he _did_ say was that Felix was absolutely a son of Ares, though he let his siblings decide what that even meant. 

"It's just so romantic!" His brother exclaimed. "Just like Mom and Lord Ares — you two are fated to be like them." He sighed. Sylvain rolled his eyes. 

"Married to other people and only seeing each other in secret? Sounds great," Sylvain drawled. 

"You're no fun," came the reply.

"I'm your older brother," Sylvain replied. "Of course I'm no fun. Now come on, we need to clear out before dinner starts and Seteth yells at all of us." 

He was leading everyone back to the cabins when he heard someone shout his name. He thought it was Felix, but when he looked there was no familiar moody bastard to see. Rather, it looked like one of Felix's siblings, the same dark hair and deep scowl. 

Sylvain hesitated. There was only one reason that they would even talk to him — not like it was out of the realm of possibility to be threatened behind the bathrooms, but Felix had assured him that Cabin Five was under explicit orders to do no such thing — but surely Felix wouldn’t have gotten hurt climbing the rock wall? 

“Who’s that?” One of Sylvain’s brothers murmured.

“Must be one of Ares’s kids,” another replied. 

“Come on,” the stranger shouted, waving for Sylvain to come closer. Sylvain didn’t have much of a choice. His own curiosity aside, his siblings would tease the shit out of him if he didn’t go.

He headed over with a light jog to give the impression of urgency. A few other campers looked at him as he came by, but most of them were just looking to see who was chasing after him. Sylvain had no doubt that some were surprised that he wasn’t running for his life. 

“Follow me,” the Ares kid said. He didn’t give Sylvain time to argue, turning around and marching towards the bathrooms. _Okay, maybe I am going to get threatened. It was bound to happen eventually._ “Hurry up, for fuck’s sake.” 

Purposefully, Sylvain slowed. He squinted at the Ares kid, trying to remember his name. He’d never tell Felix, but honestly all his siblings kind of looked the same. A lot of camo, a lot of muscle, and a lot of scowling. 

_Thank the gods Felix doesn’t wear camo,_ Sylvain thought. 

“What’s up?” Sylvain asked once they got to the bathrooms. “Is this where you and your siblings threaten to gut me if I hurt your brother?” 

The kid sneered. Sylvain took a step back. He was certain that he was taller than the other guy, but now he had to crane his neck to look him in the eyes — eyes that were bright red. 

_Shit._

“My punk kid might be too soft, but he doesn’t need my protection.” Ares — because of course Sylvain was getting a visit from the god of war, that was just his luck — rolled his eyes. “No, I’m here to make sure you know what happens if you mess up my reputation.” 

“Lord Ares,” Sylvain said, bowing in respect because, despite the fire in his veins, he wasn't an idiot. All of a sudden, he was itching for a fight. Ares's face looked real good for punching, but he pushed that feeling back down. “I have no intention on doing anything to your reputation.”

He hoped that his internal panic wasn’t too visible. Was his hair good? Did he still smell like his cologne or was he stinky from sitting outside all day? God, he knew he should have worn his other pair of jeans — these were more comfortable but they made his legs look short. 

Ares snorted. Sylvain winced. It sounded just like Felix. Their faces both twitched the same way and their eyes held the same fiery passion. Only Ares, now that he wasn’t trying to pretend to be a demigod, had actual fire in his eyes. 

“Stop thinking so loud, it’s annoying.” Ares leaned against the bathroom wall. He pulled a large knife out of his pocket and started cleaning underneath his fingernails. “Aphrodite’s a babe and her kids are cute, but none of you should waste your time thinking.” 

Sylvain felt a pit in his stomach, a healthy combination of dread and anger. Why did Ares think he could just come and insult him? Why was his mother an excuse for treating him like a complete airhead? Just because he cared about his appearance and love, did that mean that he couldn’t also have depth? 

“What do you want?” Sylvain snapped, letting the frustration tinge his vision red. His fingernails dug into his palms. 

It was Ares’s divine presence — being around a war god was going to make one want to pick a fight. Sylvain, with what part of his brain could think about anything other than how much fun it would be to pick a fight with his boyfriend’s dad, wondered if this was what Felix felt all the time. 

“I told you. We’re going to have some guidelines.” Ares spun the knife in his hand, eyes boring holes in Sylvain’s head. Sylvain had been on the receiving end of a lot of threats and glares, but this was even worse than when Seteth gave him an entire summer of kitchen duty. “I don’t think that you’re worth my kid’s time. Maybe as a fling. I can tolerate this as a fling. But you’re not really long-term material.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sylvain crossed his arms, frowning even though too much frowning was definitely going to leave wrinkles. “I’m a catch. I’m the second hottest guy in camp.” 

“Yeah, but can you even fight?” Ares smirked when Sylvain didn’t reply. “Thought so.”

“I’m not going to drag Felix down, if that’s what you think. Everyone thinks he’s lucky to date me,” Sylvain said, even though he thought that he was the lucky one. Sylvain wasn’t just talking out of his ass — he was the hottest of all his siblings, a complete lady-killer, and people did think that Felix was lucky to call him his boyfriend. Even in the last few days, the high had yet to fade. 

Only Sylvain was smart enough to know that Felix could drop him at any time, could find out that Sylvain was just a flash in the pan. Sylvain was only clever enough to know that he wasn’t very clever. 

Ares didn’t look convinced. “Pretty faces don’t last for mortals. My kid’s got a decent head on his shoulders. But too many people see him all soft and all… _romantic_ and it makes all my other kids look bad. Makes me look bad.” 

Sylvain had several responses but what came out of his mouth was, “I don’t give two satyr asses about your reputation, Lord Ares.”

For a moment, Ares’s entire body went bright red. Sylvain wondered if this was it — he would be vaporized into a million atoms by exposure to the divine presence of Mr. War. He almost welcomed it, felt his lips curl up in an uncharacteristic snarl. What happened instead was Ares let out a deep breath, smoke curling from mouth.

“Your mother would be upset if I crushed you into a pulp, so count your blessings” Ares said, “I would watch your words, demigod. I’m a bad choice for an enemy.”

“If I can’t fight then it doesn’t matter anyways,” Sylvain snapped. He was over this. “What do you want from me?” 

Ares spat on the ground. A hunk of brimstone actually sizzled on the grass. “Simple. You and my kid — it’s cute. Teenagers doing stupid shit. You two might not even make it past this summer. You probably won’t. But—” His voice dropped, the world around Sylvain went dark, and he felt like every single loss or failure in his life was pounded into his head, a reminder that for every conflict there had to be a loser and Ares never lost, “—I want you to think real hard about it. Do you think you can make a warrior happy?”

“Does my mom know you’re talking to me? I don’t think that the goddess of love would approve of you trying to break us up,” Sylvain countered. The glower Ares levelled at him made it entirely worth asking. His blood was pounding in his ears, but he tried to keep himself focused. “You might say that you don’t care, but you do, don’t you? Felix is still your son, even if you’re a terrible father.” 

“What did you call me?” Ares raised an eyebrow. 

“You heard me. You and Rodrigue — two fathers and Felix still doesn’t have anyone to look up to. And this is coming from me. At least I know that my mother cares for me.”

“I care for my demigods, I’m just not a weakling about it. In Sparta, they knew how to treat brats. All this caring for people and coddling — arts and crafts? What’s the point of arts and crafts? Are you going to weave your way out of a fight?” Ares sighed, shaking his head. “My brats are ungrateful snobs, but they know where they stand with me. They make me proud, I’ve got their backs.”

“Do you?” Sylvain asked. He knew he was kicking a hornet’s nest, but he didn’t care. Ares’s presence was making him rash enough to not care about the consequences. “How many times have you answered their prayers or even listened to them? You’re just another absentee father, just like the rest of them.” 

“You think that an absentee father would spend his precious time making sure that his son doesn’t waste his time with someone who’s gonna leave him in the dust?” 

_Well then._

“Just say that you don’t want me to hurt Felix, because then I can tell you that I’d rather tear my own eyes out than hurt him,” Sylvain said. “I don’t know if you know what it feels like to love someone, Lord Ares. But this is more than just love. My mother would call it fate, maybe. A cynic might call it chance. All I know is that when I’m with Felix everything makes sense.”

Ares smiled. Somehow it creeped Sylvain out more than any of his other expressions. 

“Swear it. Swear that you won’t hurt my son and I’ll forgive you for being so disrespectful.”

_Don’t do it. He’s goading you. This is reckless, even for you._

Sylvain returned the grin. He knew it was all teeth, no warmth. 

“I swear on the River Styx that I will never hurt Felix.” Thunder rumbled. A sigh ran through the entire camp. Ares laughed. 

“You really are your mother’s son, Gautier.” Ares snapped his fingers. A bottle appeared. It was definitely no Aphrodite trinket — the bottle was black glass, the stopper sharp on the top and carved in the shape of a sword. “You know, you interest me. You’re definitely not strong, but you have more going on than you want a guy to know. Most people are too cowardly to push back against me. Even my own brats don’t talk back.”

“I don’t want a gift from you,” Sylvain said, even as every story of mortals being cursed for turning down a god ran through his head. Ares sneered. He tossed it at Sylvain, who caught it despite his own will. It felt ice cold to the touch. 

“If there comes a time when you wake up and realize that you’re wasting my son’s time, use that. It’s a… I’d call it an anti-love potion.” Ares’s expression made Sylvain know it was more than that. “If you use it, I’ll consider your oath dropped. No hard feelings.”

“I’ll never use it,” Sylvain told him. 

Ares cracked his neck. “Sure thing, brat.” He snapped his fingers. A hot gust of wind blew out from around him. Sylvain had to squeeze his eyes shut and he raised his arms to cover his face. 

When the wind died down, he was alone. The bottle in his hand felt like he was holding dry ice. He shoved it in a pocket — he wanted to flush it down the toilet, but he didn’t want to know what that would do. 

Sylvain wanted to think that he had come out of the conversation fine, but he also couldn’t help but feel that Ares had gotten exactly what he wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr [here](http://disasterfelixfraldarius.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter.](https://twitter.com/ashes8012)


End file.
